


Jamaal's Night Off

by jacques_su



Category: X Factor (UK) RPF
Genre: Jamaal plays with himself, Kinda, Masturbation, butt stuff, inappropriate use of KFC refreshment towels, something for the gays, something for the girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacques_su/pseuds/jacques_su
Summary: Everyone from the X Factor Tour is out celebrating the final show. Jamaal is ill and alone on the tour bus. Do the math.





	Jamaal's Night Off

**Author's Note:**

> this is so bad lmao 
> 
> also Samuel is a made-up character based off the random ppl seen in background of the various Insta-stories from the tour.

Bzzzzz.

The vibrating noise from Jamaal's pocket continued as his notifications were flooded with updates from the gang. It was the final night of the X Factor Tour, and everyone involved - from stylists to tech staff to their managers and all the acts - had all decided to hit the town to celebrate what had been a pretty incredible few weeks. It was part a release of the hard work and taxing hours they'd spent travelling and rehearsing and performing, but also a last hurrah. Going out and getting drunk and dancing into the early hours of the morning seemed the best way to deal with the fact that it would all be over soon for good: no more laughs on the tour bus, no more sharing the stage as an X Factor family. 

So it killed Jamaal to know he was missing out. He'd been sick for several nights, and pushed through, but the cold weather, the lack of sleep and the constant pressure to get up for the next show every day had taken it's toll. Though they had only one arena show left, that one show felt impossible for Jam. Just to build the strength to get out on stage and put all his energy into giving the fans the best of himself when he really had nothing to give felt insurmountable. 

And so he made the difficult, but responsible, decision to sacrifice his last night out with his X Factor family in order to rest and recuperate. A night in never bothered Jam anyway. The only problem is that a "night in" on the X Factor Tour meant sitting on the cold, dark tour bus which was parked on the curb a few blocks away from the very bar the rest of the lads were having the time of their lives. It was just Jam and Samuel, one of the assistant tour managers who was left in charge of the bus and everyone's possessions left on board it. They were locked in with the blinds drawn across the windows of the bus, because duh, a great big luxury coach on the side of the street in the heart of a hooligan town was sure to attract petty criminals.

Bzzzzz. 

Jam had had it. He pulled out his phone and decided to just rip the band-aid off. He was dying of jealousy but it was grinding his gears having his notification screen just clogging up with Snapchats from Myles and Ash, and DMs from the Price brothers keeping him updated on everything he was missing out on that night. He smiled and chuckled his way through the plethora of Instagram stories, replied to a Snap from Grace, and double-checked Shereen's account, mystified by her absence from the night's social media chronicles. Then he tucked his phone away in his backpack, out of sight and out of mind. 

It was then, without the niggling presence of social media in the palm of his hand, that he realised how quiet it was, besides Samuel's snoring from the front seat which Jam could hear from the back of the bus. He was also thankful that he was wearing his thick red hoodie and tracksuit combination, because it was freezing and laying right beneath an air-conditioning vent in the roof of the bus sure as hell did not help. He perched his feet up on the aisle chair and curled into the window of the bus, oddly at peace with the fact he was nestled away in a private little enclave while the drunken antics raged on just outside his window. 

Then it hit him: he was alone. 

Sure, there was Samuel down the front of the bus, but he was fast asleep, and his job was purely to get the acts from A to B without any harm or trouble; what they did in between was none of his business or his interest. 

Jamaal had not actually been alone for what felt like weeks. To be unwatched, to not have to engage in any banter with the rest of the band, or small talk with all the crew that worked on the tour; to not have to be doing something at a certain time and place like his life orbitted entirely around the tour's schedule. He could do what he wanted.

He wasn't even aware that he was running his hand down between his legs to rub and squeeze at his crotch - it was purely instinctual. He was thinking only about himself and how good it felt to actually be able to just touch his own dick and acknowledge it's hardness without worrying about getting caught or running out of time. He had the whole rear end of the bus and all night to himself, he was going to embrace it. 

That familiar throb beneath the fabric when his palm came into contact with his bulge made Jamaal stir, and he was suddenly overcome with the desperate need to have that skin-on¬-skin feeling, to feel his own flesh pulsing in his hand. He wasn't even fully hard yet, so it was no difficulty for him to pull the waistband of his tracksuit pants down, tuck it under his heavy balls, and let his cock slap against his lower stomach. Just feeling the air hit the sensitive shaft made Jamaal want more, crave more. He curled his thick fingers around his cock and gave it a few tender strokes, almost experimenting with firmness and pace. It had been a while for Jam, between a long relationship, the whole X Factor experience, recording the album and now the tour, finding time or energy for wanking had fallen pretty far on Jamaal's priority list over the last six months or so, so he could be forgiven for experiencing a little rust.

Trying to pluck up some courage to find some sort of rhythm, he brought his hand up to his face and licked his palm twice, before shivering when the coolness of it came into contact with his sensitive cock. The upward strokes caused his whole body to quiver, and every downward stroke sent vibrations through the thick vein running up the side of his shaft. Drops of precome dribbled out of the tip of his cock, spreading the glistening moisture over his fingers, and just the sight of it made him long for a pussy he could put them to use with. He thought about how he'd use his long, elegant fingers to play with the folds of a girl's clit, draw sharp breaths from her body with an eventual deep thrust of those fingers. 

He'd use two fingers to spread them and scissor them within her walls, using a third to play with her folds. His mouth would be dry from watching in awe as her tight heat clenched around his digits so much it almost burned. 

Jam hadn't even processed what he was doing as he brought two fingers wet from his own precome up to his mouth and opened his lips to accommodate them, sucking them dry and imagining the salty taste of a girl's come in it's place. The idea alone was enough to compensate for the perculiarity of the reality. 

It did little to distract his cock from the throbbing chase of it's release, a much-needed release. Jam used his other hand to pull his pants further down to his mid-thighs, bare arse now rubbing against the velvety fabric of the bus seats, cool air hitting between his legs like a late afternoon's breeze. As he continued stroking, he brought his wet fingers down to his balls and rolled the heavy sack in his palm, the light littering of hairs on his balls creating a warm sensation that felt so fucking good Jam had to hold back a moan. 

Which reminded him to check on Samuel, who he was relieved to find still in the exact same position as before. It gave Jam the confidence to get a little more bold, pulling his balls tightly away from his body before releasing them, legs shaking and thrusting at nothing but the feeling of his cock wanting to be inside a warm, tight and inviting body. He spread his legs further apart, trying to perfect the angle to give himself maximum pleasure. Thank God Samuel really was asleep, as there was no way he could possibly justify this embarrassing position - all sprawled out across the two bus seats like a bitch in heat, waiting to be taken. But he didn't really care how he looked, not while he was so close to that perfect release.

Wanting more but not knowing what of, Jamaal ran a curious finger down between his legs, behind his balls to rub at the soft, sensitive skin between sac and his arse crack. The warm flesh and the way his body gave in as soon as his index finger pressed against it only spurred him on, and he briefly wondered about what it would be like to feel a finger further back between his crack, in his most sensitive part. A girl very nearly did it once, and it was enough to make him bust all over her face. And oh God, that's exactly what he needed - a beautiful girl with petite features to cover with his come, maybe land some loose drops down her chest and over her perky breasts. 

And just like that, Jam felt his stomach muscles clench as his orgasm arrived, swiping a finger tip over the slit of his cock, and he was seeing stars. Exhaling heavily, he stroked his cock through it's release, several ropes of come spurting onto his stomach, towards his pecs, dripping down his shaft and onto his hand. His breathing was erratic, like he'd just run a 400 metre relay, and he coughed and spluttered a few times as quietly as possible as he tried to recollect himself. He sat panting as he stared down at the mess he'd made of himself, wiping the come from his hand onto his hip like his body was his own canvas. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and he suddenly became aware of his sweaty lower back sticking to the chair, and how humid the whole vacinity felt immediately after his orgasm. 

He heard Samuel grunt something and saw his head rise from the slouched position in the front seat. In a panic, Jamaal searched through his backpack for something to clean up his mess, and settled upon some KFC refreshment towels, gasping as the chilly material touched his over-sensitive skin. He wiped up the last of his come, rolling the towels into a ball and tossing it in the nearby bin, before pulling up his pants, tucking his flaccid cock back into his underwear, and returning to his sleeping position against the window. 

Like nothing had happened. 

Samuel had merely changed position and gone back to sleep again, and Jamaal knew he was in the clear. Tonight would be the best he had slept in weeks.


End file.
